


The Evil That Mortals Do

by ekrolo2



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Bleak, Dark, Dragon Ball Super - Freeform, Dragon Ball Z - Freeform, Dystopian, Evil Plans, F/M, Gods, Male Antagonist, Other, POV Antagonist, Planet Destruction, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8003203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekrolo2/pseuds/ekrolo2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am looking at things from a far higher perspective than you. I observe this world, this universe, the truth of all things. And I have realized mortals must be destroyed. Out of all which the gods have made, mortals are their sole failure. To create a utopia, I must remove mortals in the place of Gods who refuse to admit their mistake! Goku Black centric-one-shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To instantly destroy a world was a trivial thing for a being of his power. With a simple wave of his hand, he could unleash a single attack without enough force to split the whole planet asunder, leaving nothing but debris and fire in the cold void of space. The mortals of this world and every world he'd visited prior and every world he will visit after certainly deserve such a fate.

The world itself didn't.

Indeed, his current hunting ground, a planet called Earth from the Northern Quadrant, was already a wounded thing. It's sentient species, humanity, ensured that when they performed experiments on their own kind, creating almost unstoppable engines of destruction that annihilated everything in their path for decades. If it wasn't for the meddlesome Saiyan attacking him at every turn, they would most certainly be his main adversaries at this moment.

Such was the case with every sentient mortal species he'd encountered thus far. All of them were given the gift of knowledge, that creative spark enabling them to rise from the primordial muck and attain a true understanding of themselves and their surroundings. A blessing which, when used responsibly, would elevate these selected species to a higher level.

Instead, they simply used it to find new ways to destroy one another in an endless cycle of self-destruction. The city he walked through, or rather the ruins of one, stood as a fine example of this. The buildings created with advanced machinery and through centuries of learning and study stood broken, if they stood at all. Whatever paint was used to give them a more appealing look vanished long ago, leaving nothing but massive chunks of grey and black rock as the city's sole remnants.

Vehicles of every sort littered the empty street ahead of him, more examples of how humanity was no different from every other horrible child of the Gods. If they weren't, the pathetic state of what was once amongst their greatest places of living wouldn't be in this state.

But even amongst the wreckage, he spotted things that validated his method of controlled cleansing instead of pure annihilation. With ilk of mankind gone from this place, nature was reclaiming what belonged to it. Through the cracks of concrete and steel, flowers and other greenery bloomed, creating patches of color and life in the drab dreariness of the overall surroundings. From the corner of his eye, he noticed packs of animals hunting together, something resembling a family unit if the two larger ones and the several smaller children following them were any indication. The four-legged hounds paid no attention to him as they pursued another, much smaller animal through the city.

He bore no ill will to these lesser creatures, they were lead by animal instincts. Simple creatures sometimes capable of more complex thought and emotion but overall simple still. They didn't truly possess the gift of sentience and thus couldn't be judged as harshly as their dominant counterparts, humans. He could no more blame them for their actions than an exploding volcano or a tsunami, they simply did what they did.

His brief examination of the pack was quickly cut short when the ground beneath one of the pups exploded into a million pieces, sending fire, rock and ash blasting into the air. Such attacks had no effect on him, if the Saiyan couldn't hurt him such conventional traps and weaponry certainly wouldn't. With a flick of his hand, he blasted the wind away and narrowed his eyes at the remnants of the pack.

The older ones lived still, horribly mutilated as they were from the mine. Their children were not so lucky, their tiny bodies didn't survive the blast, all that was left of them were strands of bloody flesh. Hearing the survivors whines of misery prompted him to end their suffering with a quick energy wave, vaporizing them and their children to a place where mankind couldn't hurt them anymore.

Bullets were the next attack to come, but not from many directions as they usually did. No, this was a lone gunman firing down on him from one of the few buildings still left standing. He ignored the metal projectiles, letting them harmlessly smash against his skin and clothes as he took off into the air towards the shooter. A black stream of energy surrounded him and left a plane like trail in the sky as he quickly closed the distance between himself and his would-be assassin.

To his surprise, he found an older man wielding the gun trained at him this time around. Usually, the younger ones were responsible for setting up tracks or attacking him. Usually sporting a Capsule Corp jacket of some description as a rallying symbol of sorts, no doubt from a desire to mimic their so-called Saiyan savior. This old man with his balding head, grey mustache, and haunted expression was no different. Perhaps a bit more fanatical in his devotion.

For as he ignored the hail of bullets fired at him, he noticed several pictures placed near his firing position, some of him with his mortal family while others of Trunks and him at some kind of Earthling celebration. No doubt one made in honor of Trunks killing the mechanical monstrosities spawned by one of Earth's "geniuses".

With a swift motion of his hand, he snatched the rifle out of the old human's hand and promptly smashed it against a nearby wall. The elder didn't even know he was being choked until he found himself levitated off the ground with a firm grip placed tightly around his aging neck.

This was the other reason he chose a more personal way of elimination. To see just how low the mortals would sink when their time of reckoning was at hand. In many of their cultures, elders such as these were revered for their tempered minds and experience, yet this one fought with the same fervour and brutality as the younger examples of his kind. Doing whatever it took to perpetuate his own, worthless existence to continue his species cycle of violence. If he was smart, he'd know he deserved what was about to happen to him.

Grabbing the man by the head with his other hand, he used his telepathic abilities to pry into the man's mind. To his surprise, the man wasn't part of Trunks' little resistance force, just a man inspired by it. His obsession with the Saiyan became clear, Trunks saved him from the so-called Androids just when one of them was about to blow his brains out with one of their Earthling firearms.

He thought of Trunks as a hero. A pretty name for just another being who's caused or escalated more senseless conflict elsewhere to resolve his own.

Upon finding the exact locations of the various mines and traps positioned around the place, the man's head was crushed with a deliberately slow movement of the fingers digging into his bones and flesh. His scream echoed throughout the empty building but was quickly silenced when there was nothing left of his skull to scream from.

The display brought a smile to his face.

He was ready to leave when he spotted a small pot containing a flower nearby, one of the few things the old man had left of his deceased wife if his memories rung true. Taking the pot with him, he levitated over the city and with his free hand, telekinetically forced the various explosives made to harm him out of their hiding spots and flung them into the ground. With another loud boom, the devices all smashed into one another and exploded, ensuring the old man's machinations wouldn't cause any more damage from beyond the grave.

He landed at the spot where the first trap killed the family of hounds and blasted a small hole in the ground with a kiai. With care, he took the flower out of the pot and put it in the ground where it could grow free from the interference of mortals. This part of the world was now cleared, the old man was the only one left for a great many miles. But there was more work to do, more humans to eliminate before the Gods mistake was corrected on this world too.

No one was going to stop him from accomplishing this, and with the power of Son Goku's body at his disposal, he doubted anyone really could.

* * *

**And there you have it! A little closer look into the motivations/psyche of Goku Black! This can honestly take place anywhere in the Super timeline but for fans of my Resurrection F remake, The Vicious Gods Wrath, don't be surprised if this ends up being in-continuity with that too at some point ;)**


	2. "Civilized" People

The sounds of gunfire rang for miles in the distance, echoing through another in an ever growing list of demolished cities littering the surface of planet Earth. Another collection of ruined gray buildings and vehicles lying smashed on top of or right next to one another. The places where their windows used to be leading into equally demolished hallways or homes long since abandoned.

To his surprise, however, none of these gunshots are meant for him as they usually are. They aren't even close by, relatively speaking. If his instincts were right, and they always were, from their frequency and sources of origin, they were the result of humans fighting humans.

Always intrigued by the cause of such in-fighting, one of the many reasons for why he despises mortals so, he decided to descend to ground level so as not to disturb them. Using his superior speed with a little bit of stealth for once, he traversed the vast, aforementioned hallways of the abandoned structures while the gunfire continues to reverberate through them.

He caught glimpses of lives once spent in these places. Front doors decorated with various things meant to distinguish them from the rest, rooms where humans once sat down and ate, others where children spent their days and nights judging by the toys he tramples on. The mark of a "civilized" society here and on many other worlds, the appearance of peaceful routine.

Nothing but a facade as far as he was concerned. A series of constantly evolving masks and lies to make mortals believe they're improving, to make them think they're rising above their base natures. But he knew otherwise, he knew better. Whenever these facades become too inconvenient for them to uphold, they all show their true faces.

As he approached the source of the gunfire, now accompanied by the shouts of men and one woman, he knew this would simply be another example of this.

He slowed his approach, taking extra care to make sure they could neither see or hear him, opting to use a nearby pillar as cover. Peeking over it, he noticed several humans in a standoff. Three men, all seemingly on the same side pointing their guns at a duo hiding behind a crashed vehicle situated down in the lobby for some reason. One a grown human of comparable age to his opponents with his companion considerably younger, one of their teenagers he guessed.

"Look!" The man covering behind the counter proclaimed. "I'm sorry we stole from you! But our sisters need this medicine! They won't survive another week without it!"

"And you think our people will?!" One of the three opposing them barked back, cocking his rifle-type firearm, a shotgun he thought, in their direction. "We've got sick people to take care of too! You think our kids are gonna get better just because you're sorry for stealing their meds?!"

And so it went for a little while longer with both sides trying to rationalize how their needs were far greater than those of the other. What little attempt at diplomacy faltered quickly, just as he knew it would. Pleas of understanding were replaced with more threats which were replaced by mutual cursing until it all culminated into the logical conclusion for any mortal being once the facade became too much of a hindrance to keep up: violence.

The younger of the two was the first to spring into action, the one he immediately noticed was constantly twitching in cover, ready and eager to fight in comparison to his companion. He peaked over their cover and fired his gun wildly at the trio with his older compatriot joining him soon after. A third of the opposing trio fell immediately, his torso and head littered with the projectiles, leaving the corpse in a mess of blood. Another of them was injured but not killed with their leader emerging unscathed.

They darted from cover to cover, both trying to thin out the ranks of the other. The injured one from the stolen party failed to compensate for his wounded shoulder, it made his entire limb shake and threw his aim off. An advantage used by the younger, more violent of the thieves to put him down as well.

His leader witnessed his companion fall and with an animalistic roar went on the offensive. The boy, failing to reload his weapon, was left vulnerable and died as the shotgun blasted him in the chest. Knocking him to the ground, unmoving. In their mutual, self-perceived righteous fits of rage, they devolved fully into barbarians. Using their previously advanced technology as mere clubs to smash one another with.

When those either failed or were discarded, they grabbed rocks and used them to bash away at one another. Ultimately, they devolved into using their fists to punch and claw at their opponents, growling like the monstrous savages they all were deep down with "civilizations" illusion no longer there to keep them in check. Upon transforming the thief leader's face into a mess of gnarled flesh and bones with his bare hands, the battle is concluded.

And with it, another aspect of mortal behavior ended up as the truth once more.

Seeing little point in hiding anymore, he levitated quietly from the upper floor and landed behind the leader as he kneeled on the floor, panting over the corpse of the thief. Intentionally, he let his footsteps grow louder and louder. When the leader of the trio snapped his head to look at him, the look of stone-faced horror on his face made him smirk.

Taking hold of his head, he invaded the man's mind, revealing all the secrets of their little group, its hideout, the layout of it, the guards, and most importantly, the man's primal joy as he destroyed the thief. With a casual flick of his wrist, he made the man's head and neck snap to an unnatural position, killing him instantly.

He prepared to leave when he noticed a coughed gasp for air nearby, prompting him to cast one more look at the younger thief. Bleeding on the ground from his chest wound and choking on the liquid gushing out of his mouth, he pointed towards the bag containing the stolen medicine. A plea for help.

To the young man's dismay, he blasted the bag into nothingness and turning whatever contents it had within to dust. With a pleased smirk still gracing his features, he approached the teenager and knelt next to him, allowing his hand to hover mere inches from his face.

"Don't worry," He told him in a quiet, unsympathetic voice at odds with his smirk. "I'll end them quickly. It will be a far kinder fate than whatever disease they have or," His smirk grows into a full grin while the boy's terrified look increases along with it. "What someone else will do if they find them."

* * *

**A bit too dark? Even for Goku Black? Ehh, I don't know. This guys been to places and likely seen things so... yeah... Anywho, I didn't expect to make this more than a one shot but if I ever feel like pointing out humanity kind of sucks, I'll be sure to use this as a venting method :P**


	3. The True Face of Man

A/N: So, you probably noticed how I intentionally avoided having Black, who's true identity was unknown when I wrote the last two one-shots, call himself... Anything. His real name was up until recently unknown to all so I avoided making one for him. Black is a name other characters use for him but he never calls himself that or refer to himself as Goku. He always says "Son Goku's body!". But now that we all know he's Zamasu, I will have him refer to himself as such. Just putting this out there to explain this slight shift in my writing.

CRACK!

With that sound of finality coming from the snapped neck of the final perimeter guard, Zamasu successfully eliminated all outer 'resistance' towards the secret human base. If one could call a dozen lowly, fragile Earthling's resistance. Without even the most rudimentary of Ki related abilities, they fell just as easily as any other fighter of this world. Well, almost any other fighter, but even Trunks was far from a threat Super Saiyan abilities or not.

Usually, he would not think twice about simply firing a blast into the subway station housing more of these mortals, cleansing this fractured planet of their fifth through the cleansing power of fire. But the same mind which leads him to this place put him in something of an experimental mood that day.

The rush of pleasure the human felt as he killed one of his own was not uncommon in mortals. It was just one of the many reasons why they deserved his punishment. But something in Zamasu's mind made him more curious on this particular feeling. Specifically the question of how far would they go?

Remembering the allotted time each one of these guards was tasked with radioing into the main settlement, Zamasu decided to move quickly towards it. With a quiet grace, he moved slowly but quickly across the air and down to another in a seemingly endless stream of delicate streets comprising every city on the Earth.

A bleak and sad sight to be sure, but once nature took hold, one that would gradually fade in favor of something far more beautiful. Keenly aware of his surrounding thanks to the dead man's assimilated information, Zamasu knew where every trap, every warning system for intruders and most importantly, where every guard was.

Just as with the outer guards, Zamasu killed the ones acting as a sort of final defense before the main settlement, leaving him entirely free to do with it what he wanted with it and everyone inside.

A faint light accompanied by the sounds of people talking served as his beacons towards the base. With a calm purpose, he casually walked down another dilapidated hallway towards one of the side entrances. Shielding himself with a nearby pillar, Zamasu decided to wait there, to observe and listen to the people inside the settlement before they picked up on the radio silence from above.

A series of huts of various types of cloth were erected all over the main station, serving as meager homes in this vast, dead halls. Placed in a circular formation, they all surrounded a single, large fire in the center, fires which a great many of them almost obsessively tried to stay as close to as possible.

Yet, a select few spots were free of these tents and fires, instead used for what he guessed were hospitals or weapons stations given the equipment positioned there.

All of them were clad in tattered clothing, all of them were visibly and thanks to the Saiyan scenes of Son Goku's body, very obviously filthy.   
Deciding to inspect them through one more avenue, Zamasu opted to listen. He could hear the sounds of men cleaning their guns, of women taking care of their species sick and elderly, of children trying to block out their imminent deaths with fantasies.

He heard little in the way of complaining or arguments, instead, it seemed as though they were all in this together. Helping one another to survive in this pitiful state of their existences.

We'll see how long that lasts, Zamasu thought with a cold smirk just ahead of one man, amongst the last of their guards, spoke to another of an urgent matter. How no one from above or from the inner perimeter was reporting in.

With his time spent, Zamasu made his move.

He appeared behind this messenger of doom, taking a moment to relish in the faces of shocking realization on his comrade's faces before the man's head found itself within Zamasu's grasp. With just a bit of pressure, it collapsed under his fingers.

Tossing the man's remains by the way side, Zamasu smirked at his shocked companions and allowed one of them to fire his weapon. A fruitless effort, just as all of them were but it did its job: it sent everyone into a panic.

"Oh my God!"

"He's here!"

"Run! Get the women and kids to safety!"

And so the screams went on and on following the death of the gun fires echoing noise. All of them leaped to their feet, most trying to run for the myriad of entrances and escape routes while a handful left opted to remain and fight.

Though he could not actually separate himself into multiple bodies, Zamasu had something else which would create the illusion that he could. Using his vast speed, he darted constantly and instantaneously from over a dozen spots at once so quickly, his after images didn't even have a chance to fade or even flicker before his actual self-appeared to keep them going.

"Humans," His distorted voice spoke to them all as he kept on moving from spot to spot. "Return to the center of your camp now and you may survive."

"Like hell, we will-" One of the guards tried to protest, dramatically and heroically, or so he thought. Firing a pair of simple eye beams at him in-between movements, Zamasu shredded his body into a bloody mess and got his message across perfectly.

With great reluctance in their movements and an ever present, crushing look of horror on their faces, the people of this settlement covered back into the center of the station and Zamasu's... clones, slowly walked towards them, only stopping when they were all huddled next to one another.

Halting his little display of fake clones, Zamasu stood at the forefront of the group and with a smirk, nodded approvingly at how easily and quickly they chose to listen to him.

"Does anyone by chance have a handkerchief?" He asked politely, showing them the bloody hand with which he crushed the human's skull. When no one approached, he asked again. "Come now, there's no reason we can't be civilized here, all I'm asking for us something to wash this off."

Somewhere in this shuffle, a woman forcefully grabbed some cloth from a child's hand and walked over him, silently offering it.

"Thank you," He smiled and bowed slightly, letting her walk back into the group while he went about cleaning his bloody appendage. Already they were turning on one another and that was him being nice, what would they be willing to do when the real business started?

"Humans," He discarded the cloth, letting his voice echo through the empty hallways. "You've no doubt heard or seen of my exploits and you must assuredly, and incorrectly, see me as a monster? Correct?"

They said nothing.

"Well, I would like to prove differently," He placed his hands behind his back, casually pacing around them as he examined various bits and pieces scattered around the place. "To show you that what I do is most assuredly in service to a greater purpose, one you may or may not understand when our business is concluded."

Spotting what Earthling's referred to as a crowbar, Zamasu picked it off the crate and examined the instrument closely. With its two prongs on the end and its metallic surface, he had no doubt one human could do a great deal of damage to another with it, with the right motivation, of course.

"You there," He addressed the woman from earlier. "Catch."

He flung the crowbar in her direction, watching as she clumsily snatched it out of the air and stared at it as though it would chew through her skin somehow.

"The child from whom you stole the cloth," He smiled. "Kill him and anyone who would stand in your way."

"You sick bastard!" Another man, this one much older than the others, perhaps the child's grandfather judging by how quick he was to cover the frightened boy up spoke. "You won't get away with this, you won't-"

With a simple blink of his eye's, Zamasu released a small blast which sent the man hurtling wildly through the air and right into a nearby wall, the sound of his screaming was drowned out only by the loud thud of which the back of his head hit the wall, silencing him forever.

"Anyone who dares interfere with any of my demands will suffer the same," He told them matter of factly as they stared at the old man's corpse. "If you value your lives, you'll stay put."

And for the next hour as his demands continued, growing ever more vicious and horrifying, they did. What little thoughts of heroism or fake selflessness quickly vanished as the true faces of these once friendly people came bubbling to the surface.

They did what all mortals do when their lives are at risk: they turned on one another. When he told the woman to bash the child to death, she did so without question or resistance from the others. That satisfactory gleam was ever present in her eyes, the gleam which proved just how vile and horrible they all were deep down.

Nothing more than savage beasts all willingly to gleefully find and use any number of creative ways to slaughter one another or to selfishly save themselves. Deep down, they were all the same regardless of species or planet or upbringing.

Children killed adults, men brutalized women, women slaughtered the sick and elderly, wearing one another down as they all tried to save their own hides, even if it meant burying friends or family. And Zamasu could see from the gleam in their eyes that they all loved it, even if they tried their best to hide it with fake disgust or anger.

Ultimately, only two were left, teenagers by the looks of them and family at that one. One a scruffy looking boy and another, a weeping girl trying her best to bury the brutal reality of her vile species away through tears and closed eyes.

In the mass of bodies lying around them, Zamasu noticed a pistol from one of the guards and with a smirk, he telepathically hovered it off the ground and made it hover towards them.

"Girl," He called out to her, patiently waiting as she removed her red, puffy eyes from her brother's chest. "Take it."

Though she didn't burst out into another fit of crying, the widening of her eyes and the tears welling in them were proof enough that she knew what was about to happen. The look of abject horror on her brother's face spoke more volumes of their understanding than any words could

Shakily and reluctantly, she took the firearm into her hands. "Good, now shoot him with it."

She opened her mouth to protest then quickly shut it, most likely forgetting to what happened to the first people who voiced their... issues with his display. Not even her brother said anything, instead, he slowly pulled away from her as every fiber of his being shock in terror.

The girl turned to face him, still lazily holding the firearm in her shaky hands. For a bit of added incentive, Zamasu appeared next to her and placed the palm of his hand mere inches away from the side of her skull, slowly and deliberately, he charged a small ball of ki just inches away but close enough to let her what would happen should she try to defy him.

It was her or him.

Laboriously, she lifted the weapon towards her now also crying sibling just a few feet away. Once again, without saying a word, Zamasu could see the conversation happening between the two of them just from the looks on their faces. With each passing moment, her hands shook more and more, the last vestiges of 'civilization' trying to keep at bay what she, her brother and Zamasu knew she was.

Nudging the ball just an inch closer, these last shreds of restraint blasted through her hesitation and with a firm grip, she fired the gun. Wordlessly, her sibling hit the ground on his back, either dead or too shocked to say anything.

"Very good," Zamasu complemented her with a small pat on the back. "You're free to go."

And with that, he, as far as she knew anyway, left the room. Hiding behind a nearby pillar, he closely observed the look on her face as she realized that by murdering her own kin, she secured her own life.

When the smile slowly but surely crept on her face, Zamasu's conviction in the righteousness of his cause was strengthened to even greater heights. The joy he felt when he vaporized her out of existence, though, was slightly more satisfying.


End file.
